


my friend

by lady_wonder



Series: Mass Effect Music Drabbles [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alcohol, Batarians, Drinking & Talking, Drunken Shenanigans, Friendship, Gen, Mass Effect 3, Mass Effect 3: Omega, Outer Space, POV Commander Shepard, POV Female Shepard, Paragade (Mass Effect), Post-Horizon (Mass Effect), Soldier (Mass Effect), Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8393146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_wonder/pseuds/lady_wonder
Summary: you're supposed to be my friend- 1990sShepard gets drunk on Omega. The only Batarian who doesn't want her dead joins her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a music prompt challenge--get some lyrics, write a drabble, hijinks ensue.

_beat me, cheat me, try and feed me_  
_lines you picked up from those trendy ladies_  
_but always be my friend_

 

* * *

 

_Be careful out there._

Batarians are ugly. Like, really ugly. Shepard doesn't understand how they can look at themselves when they wake up in the morning. Do they just not own mirrors? Maybe that's part of the problem. Maybe her next mission should be to get the batarians mirrors. Save the world from their ugliness.

"Shepard, you're talking aloud."

She blinks. Next to her, Bray cocks his head; his expression is indistinguishable from any other look she's received from a batarian before, something akin to annoyance but still too stoic for her to put her finger on. Not that she wants to put her fingers anywhere near Bray's face, but--this only establishes her opinion that batarians are always in bad moods. Probably from ugliness.

"Still talking, Shepard. Still using words."

Bray reaches forward and steals the glass from her clumsy hold. He downs the vibrant pink liquid before she can protest. "I'll have you know," he says as he wipes his mouth, "that I was quite the prize when I was younger."

Shepard lolls her head in what she's sure is disbelief. "Don't even start--"

"Batarians aren't really known for courting," he continues anyway. "We're blunt and focus on getting the gritty stuff out of the way--not like you babbling humans or salarians." She drops her head onto to the edge of the bar table, which also doesn't deter him. "And it doesn't really matter if you're male or female, unless you're really hellbent on popping out a few--"

A groan bubbles in her throat. Or maybe it's vomit. She can't tell. "Please stop."

"--so I'd have lines of them coming up to me, asking me to mate." Bray pours another tube full of pink stuff. His multiple eyes linger on a pitcher of the blue stuff, which packs quite a wallop, as Shepard's insides can now testify, before wisely choosing otherwise. "Men. Women. Didn't matter. Bray was on the market and lookin' good."

Carefully, Shepard rolls her head to the side; she looks up at the batarian through a mess of her hair. "I think--" she licks her lips so that she emits words and not puke. "--I liked you better when you didn't like me."

"And I liked you better before you called me ugly," Bray retorts, burping slightly. He recoils at himself and pushes his now-empty glass away. "Not that I can fault you. You're ugly yourself."

"Hey, now!" She lifts her arm to point at him--except she doesn't know which of him to point at, so she settles on the Bray that's vaguely in front of her. "I'm Commander Shepard and I'm beautiful."

"You're drunk," he corrects, lazily swatting her hand away.

"Your fault." And it is too. Ever since Omega got back up and running, Shepard really hadn't intended on returning, especially with pockets of enemies still to take care of around the galaxy. But when Bray shot her a message when she happened to be cruising through the system, inviting her in for a drink, she thought: _What the hell? What could it hurt?_

Apparently every organ in her body. For someone who allegedly can drink krogan under the table, she's nothing when it comes to batarian whiskey. It's way too strong; it's probably poison. Maybe that's why Bray invited her for a drink--to poison her! She's gone six months without a batarian trying to kill her; she thought maybe she was finally losing some of her reputation, but alas! She knew it all along.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't ramble about how ugly you think we are," Bray cuts in.

Shepard groans again, barely registering the fact that she keeps talking aloud. "Why did you invite me then?"

"I don't know--" He chortles, reclaiming his empty glass and pouring the blue liquid in. "--maybe because you saved everything? Like Omega, Aria, what's left of my species, the universe… my job?" He takes a quick swig, winces, then looks back at where she still rests her head on the table. "I thought this would be a good thank you."

Shepard lets that sit for a moment. "So…" She slowly straightens, peering at him with what she's sure a skeptical expression. Maybe. She tries to. "You're not here to kill me?"

Bray finishes his drink. "Not today."

His mouth twitches into a strange look and--well, she knows she's drunk off her ass, but she thinks he might actually be smiling at her. A batarian smile, at least. It's not half-bad. Maybe it helps that she's drunk to really appreciate it. And beneath the neon lights of the club, electric music hazy to her ears, she guesses he's not that bad-looking. Tolerable. Approachable. For a batarian.

Another laugh interrupts her. "I told you," he preens, wagging his finger at her this time. "Just join the line, Shepard."

Face hot, she drops her head back to the bar table with a dull thud. "On second thought, do kill me."

 _Know there's at least one batarian here that doesn't want you dead._     


End file.
